


One Hale of a Chrismas

by the_painless_moustache



Series: The Most Wonderful Time [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, alright alright alright, so fluff and sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_painless_moustache/pseuds/the_painless_moustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek loves his husband, but if he keeps freaking out about Christmas, he's going to wring his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Hale of a Chrismas

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE! This all started with me imagining Stiles begging Derek for Christmas lights, but I'm pretty pleased with how it worked out.  
> I hope everyone has a safe and happy Christmas, and if you don't celebrate Christmas than I hope your holidays are just as safe and happy.

 “Derek. Honey. Sugar. Babydoll.”

 “If you put one more box of lights in this cart, I am changing the locks.” Derek says without looking up from the timers he’s holding.

 “But…love monkey…” Stiles hooks his chin over Derek’s shoulder. “For better or for worse, right?”

 “Stiles, we already have _seven_ boxes of lights.”

 “We have a big house!”

 “We live in the middle of nowhere, no one’s going to see it anyway.”

 “ _I will_.” Stiles gasps, pulling back.

 Derek sighs and turns to face him. He can’t help the exasperated laugh when he sees his husband clutching two boxes of Christmas lights. “Stiles…”

 “They twinkle.” Stiles mumbles, pouting. “We don’t have twinkle lights yet.”

 “We have two boxes of colored lights, two of white lights, and three of the star lights you want to line the windows with.”

 “But we don’t have twinkle lights.”

 “Stiles.”

 “And we don’t have lights for the tree yet!” he yelps, throwing the boxes into the cart and fleeing before Derek can stop him.

 “We don’t even have a tree yet.” Derek sighs, exasperated, but he can’t deny that Stiles’ enthusiasm for this is nearly contagious. He hasn’t had a Christmas like this since his family died. Rebuilding the house had been his first step in bringing himself closure. Bringing the pack—bringing _Stiles_ into the house, that had been the second step.

 Stiles comes running back with another box of lights, a length of golden garland wrapped around his arm, and a box of assorted ornaments. “Okay, this should get us started I think. Oh, _oh!_ Tree skirt, I forgot to grab a tree skirt. I’ll just—”

 Derek snags his wrist and tugs him into his arms. “Stiles, my one and only…” he hums. “I love you more than life itself, but you are driving me _crazy_.”

 “Derek, it’s Christmas. Our first Christmas being married! And we’re hosting Christmas day events. We need—”

 “ _You_ need to relax. Your dad has a whole box of ornaments he’s giving to you, plus a stocking.”

 Stiles gasps again. “ _Stockings!_ You need a stocking!”

 Derek sighs, pressing his forehead to his husband’s with an amount of patience he knows he hasn’t always possessed. “Babe, you have to take it easy. It’s only December 1st.”

 “That means we’re late.” Stiles whimpers.

 Derek rocks them a little, studying Stiles’ eyes for any sort of give. All he sees is an overwhelming amount of hope. He leans up and kisses his forehead. “Go get your tree skirt.”

 “And a stocking.” Stiles chirps, smacking a kiss on his mouth before dashing away.

 Derek knows he’s probably going to end up buying out the store.

***

Derek is in the habit of waking up at least once a night to some odd noise or another. No matter how used to the environment he is, there’s always something that has him awake. He’ll normally just roll over and tuck himself around Stiles, taking comfort in the fact they’re both safe and together. Tonight, though, his beloved is the cause of his sleep disturbance. The first thing is the muttering, and then Stiles starts tossing and turning. By the time he actually gets out of bed, Derek is wide awake.

 Derek tries to give him a few minutes. This happens sometimes, when Stiles is anxious about something. He’ll get up, maybe play a game or something, and then come back. But when Derek wakes up a second time, it’s because Stiles’ side of the bed has gone cold. He sighs and rolls out of bed, following the sounds of Stiles’ grumbling down to the dining room, where he’s sitting with papers and his laptop spread out across almost the entire surface. “Hey.” Derek says softly, frowning. “What are you doing?”

 “The menu.” Stiles mutters.

 “What menu?”

 “Christmas menu.”

 “Stiles, we had the menu figured out already.” Derek sighs, pulling a chair up next to him. “What are you doing?”

 “What if they don’t like ham? So I added a turkey, but then I thought ‘Wolves. Red meat.’ So now there’s a ham, a turkey, and a roast instead of two hams. And then I realized that I needed cranberry sauce so I had to find a recipe for that because there is no way in hell I’m buying that, and I needed a gravy for the roast, and—”

 “Stiles, we don’t need all of this.” Derek says, pushing things out of Stiles’ reach and grabbing for his hands. “We were good with the hams.”

 “But—”

 “What’s really going on, Stiles?”

 Stiles stares at him for a long moment before blurting “I don’t want to screw up.”

 “You won’t.”

 “But I might.” Stiles argues. “And if I do then—this is—I’ve always wanted to do this. My mom pulled this all off so perfectly, and when she died it all stopped. So I’ve always dreamed of having a big family like this to throw parties for, in a big beautiful house with my beautiful husband…I need it to be perfect.”

 “We’ll make it perfect, sweetheart, I promise.” Derek kisses him. “Come back to bed. Please. You have work in the morning.”

 “But the—”

 “I’ll give you a hand job if you come to bed _right now_.” Derek bargains.

 Stiles sighs, but he comes to bed.

***

 Christmas Eve in Derek’s family was always noisy, but Stiles’ brings a whole new level to it. He hasn’t stopped making noise since six in the morning, and it’s nearly four in the afternoon.

 “Left! Left!”

 “Stiles, Jesus Christ, if I go any further left I am going to fall off the ladder!”

 “We don’t have any wolfsbane around here, so knock yourself out.”

 “You’re not funny.” Derek snaps, but he leans left and hooks light where Stiles’ wants.

“Oh my god.” Stiles whimpers.

 Derek spins around and sees Stiles’ shiny eyes. He’s off the ladder in half a second, crowding into Stiles’ space. “I’m sorry, I’ll fix it. I shouldn’t have snapped. We’ll get it right, Stiles, I promise.”

 “Derek, it’s perfect.” Stiles sniffs, wiping at his face. “Oh, god, look.”

 Derek turns, and even though he would’ve been pleased with something much less labor-intensive, he has to admit that the draping of lights across the top of the house looks incredible. It looks like something his parents would’ve done. He hooks an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, leaning in to kiss the top of his head. “It’s amazing, baby.”

 “Can we turn them on?”

 Derek chuckles, brushing his nose against Stiles’ hair. “You know the rules, Stiles. You _made_ the rules.”

 Stiles sighs heavily, nodding. “Okay, okay. We’ll be good.” Then he beams at Derek and cups his cheeks. “My husband is so good to me. How about we go inside and I’ll reward you?”

 “Oh, yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 “And how are you going to do that?” Derek wonders.

 “Well, you know I’m cute in this jacket, but you should see me out of it.”

 Derek snorts, leaning in to kiss his nose. “You’re an idiot.”

 “I know.” Stiles hums, linking their fingers together. “Come on, Sourwolf. Take me inside and rip off my clothes.”

 “Yes, dear.” Derek snorts, dragging Stiles into the house. Stiles peppers kisses across his neck when they stumble into each other and laughs when Derek trips on a stray hat and brings them both down onto the stairs. After kissing the giggles out of him, Derek fits Stiles onto his hips and carries him up the stairs. Stiles rubs his thumb over Derek’s bottom lip. “I love you, you know?”

 “I know.”

 “’n your lips. Really soft.”

 “I’ll be sure to put them all over you.” Derek promises, sucking the tip of Stiles’ thumb into his mouth.

 “ _Oh._ ”

 Derek grins, teeth sinking slightly into the soft flesh of his thumb. He walks them into their room, kicking the door shut behind them. “You know what I’d love to see?”

 “Me, naked.” Stiles mutters, pulling on Derek’s shirt. “You, naked. You, naked, on top of me, naked.”

 Derek snorts, laying Stiles out on the bed beneath him. “I want to see you come apart beneath me.”

 “You’ve seen that before.” Stiles points out, a little breathless as Derek starts pulling clothes off him.

 “Not in our fully decorated house on our first Christmas Eve being married.” Derek starts kissing the skin he’s exposing carefully, tasting the sweat Stiles has built up underneath his winter jacket. “Not like this.”

 Stiles laughs a little hysterically, grabbing onto Derek’s shirt and pulling it off. “Careful, Der, I might start to think you love me.”

 “I don’t hang out on ladders for three hours for just anyone.” he murmurs, kissing across Stiles’ jaw.

 “Just me and the other husband, right?”

 “Right,” Derek snorts. “But he didn’t make me pay for all the lights.”

 Stiles grins, working open the snap on Derek’s jeans. “He doesn’t know how to milk this situation to the fullest.”

 “And you obviously do,” Derek murmurs, watching with heavy eyes as Stiles’ long fingers slip under the denim and cotton. He groans, eyes falling closed and leaning forward into him. “Fuck, Stiles.”

 “You bet your ass I know how to milk you.” Stiles teases, turning to nip at his ear.

 Derek huffs a laugh into Stiles’ neck. “I can’t believe I married you.” he chokes out.

 Stiles twists his fingers deftly, giving a pleased hum when Derek moans. Stiles mouths along his jaw, murmuring quiet words while his hand works Derek’s cock inside his jeans. And then the tip of his cock scrapes against the teeth of his zipper, and Derek yelps, hips jerking. Stiles squeezes, pressing their mouths together. “Sorry, sorry…”

 “Get me out of these fucking pants, Stiles.” Derek growls. Stiles nods, removing his hand to shove at the jeans. There’s a few more awkward scrapes that have Derek hissing, but finally they get Derek undressed, and then Derek angrily works Stiles’ clothes off too. Stiles doesn’t offer any resistance, letting Derek flip him onto his stomach. Stiles arches his back to get at least a glance, and Derek can’t help but bite at the tendons he reveals.

 “Yeah, Der, yes, c’mon…”

 Derek feels the rumble in his chest when he bites the bruise into Stiles’ ribs. “Gonna give me whatever I want, Stiles? Let me take whatever I want?”

 “Yeah.” Stiles moans, nodding. “Yeah, please.”

 Derek adds two more bruises next to the first before trailing down to bite one more into the flesh of Stiles’ ass. Stiles’ hips hitch just a little, but he doesn’t complain. Derek flips him over again, kissing the soft skin of his pelvis and then licking up over his shaft. Stiles’ breath catches, his fingers scrambling into his hair. “Der…” he moans.

 Derek sinks his mouth around the length of Stiles’ cock, humming so he can hear Stiles’ voice crack on a high moan. Stiles’ fingers get tighter into his hair, and his hips keep arching into Derek’s mouth. Derek loves the taste of Stiles in his throat, but he loves the sounds that slip out more.

 Derek pulls off, letting spit drip from his mouth onto Stiles’ groan. “God, you look so good, Stiles. So fucking good.”

 Stiles sobs, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Derek…”

 Derek slides up Stiles’ body, pressing messy kisses to each patch of skin he crosses. When he gets flush with Stiles’ face, he pulls his arm away to kiss him. “Talk to me, baby.”

 “Don’t wanna talk.” Stiles whines, pulling him back in. Derek indulges him, letting Stiles bite and suck on his mouth. He grabs onto Stiles fingers, bringing both their hands around to their dicks. Stiles gasps with the contact, hand spasming tightly. “ _Oh_ , oh, god…”

 Derek presses their foreheads together, pants in time with Stiles while working their hands up and down their cocks. Stiles fucks up into it, tiny little moans slipping out of his lips and vibrating against Derek’s. Derek nips at his bottom lip, feels his muscles tightening with the force it takes to keep control on himself.

 “Derek, Derek, Derek…” Stiles bawls.

 “Go on, baby. Go on, come for me, do it.”

 Stiles grits his teeth, whining and squeezing almost painfully on the two of them before his body snaps like a broken rubber band and he spurts come all over his stomach and their hands. Derek moans, leaning down to swallow Stiles whimpers as he finishes on Stiles’, too.

 There’s a few long minutes of them just laying there, come sandwiched between them, fingers occasionally spasming. Stiles starts lazily kissing at his jaw, mumbling sweet nothings into his skin while Derek tries to find his balance again.

 Derek raises his head, grinning lazily at his husband. “I’d do a lot more around the house if I was continuously rewarded like that.”

 Stiles giggles, leaning up to kiss him. Then he gasps and pushes Derek off. “Time! What time is it?”

 Derek blinks, turning to find a clock. “Uh, it’s almost five.”

 “Get dressed!” Stiles orders, already pulling on his jeans. When he sees Derek making a face, he looks down at himself. “Oh, ew. Okay, clean up, and then get dressed.”

 “Good idea.” Derek laughs, letting Stiles drag him into the bathroom for a cursory swipe of a washcloth and some sneaked kisses that Stiles keeps glaring at him for. When they’re finally dressed, he deliberately moves slowly, Stiles tugging ineffectually on his hand. “Derek, damn it, hurry up!” he snaps.

 “I’m going as fast as I can.” Derek shrugs.

 “You’re a goddamn werewolf, you are _not_ going as fast as you can!”

 Derek still drags a little just to watch the way Stiles turns progressively more red and angry before throwing up his hands and leaving Derek behind. By the time he gets downstairs, Stiles is pulling on his jacket. “Hurry up, Derek, c’mon!”

 Derek grins, pulling on his shoes and jacket quickly—though not quickly enough, if you asked Stiles—and then grabs his husband by the shoulders. “Go turn the rest of the lights off.”

 Stiles’ eyes goes wide. “Oh my god, I almost forgot.”

 “Well, I didn’t. Go on.”

 Stiles races through the house, flipping lights off while yelling at Derek to do the same. The meet back in the foyer, Stiles throwing his arm around Derek’s neck and kissing him very thoroughly. When he breaks apart, Derek can’t do anything but blink at him. Stiles smiles and scrapes his fingers over Derek’s jaw. “I love you, Sourwolf.”

 “I love you, too.” Derek rumbles, kissing him again.

 Stiles pulls backwards abruptly a few seconds later. “Did you grab the switch?”

 “I haven’t yet.” Derek chuckles. “I’m about to. Go wait outside.”

 “Okay.” Stiles taps another kiss against his cheek. “Meet you out there!”

 Derek grabs his phone and pulls up the app, sighing at his empty house as he walks outside. Stiles is jumping out in the yard impatiently, making little noises to get Derek to hurry up. Finally, Derek gets to his side and Stiles loops their arms together. The sunset is burning orange to the left of the house, mostly hidden by trees, but everything else in the sky is varying shades of blue. Derek turns to grin at Stiles. “Ready?”

 “Yes! Go! Go!”

 Derek hits the button.

 Like some sort of magic wand was waved, the house lights up. The lights draped under the eaves are yellow and warm, while the bushes are lined with the twinkle lights and look like Stiles wrapped up tiny fireflies in them. The colored lights are wrapped around the porch rails every front window in the house glow with tiny stars. The tree is lit up in reds, blues, whites, and greens, with a giant glowing star at the top and an arrangement of Stiles’ childhood ornaments and the ones they’d bought.

 It’s eclectic, but it’s perfect.

 Derek turns to Stiles, wrapping an arm around him when he sees the tears. “Okay?”

 “I—I’m—” Stiles sniffs, wiping at his eyes. “Derek…”

 Derek squeezes his arm. “I guess we did need nine boxes of lights.”

 “Eleven.” Stiles mumbles, sniffing. “For the tree.”

 “Don’t remind me.” Derek murmurs against his hair, but he’s smiling. He’s happy. He can list the number of times he’s been this happy on one hand, and all of them involve the man standing next to him. “Hey, babe?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Merry Christmas.”

***

 Derek wakes up in the middle of the night to the click of the lights going off. He blinks a little and then turns to study Stiles, who is completely passed out next to him. He grins, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. Stiles stirs just a little, eyes fluttering open to focus on him. “Hi.”

 “Hi.”

 “Time s’it?”

“Early.” Derek murmurs, kissing each eyelid. Stiles sighs, relaxing into him even more. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

 “S’okay. Good way to be woken up.”

 Derek chuckles, pulling him closer. “Hey, guess what?”

 “What?”

 “It’s Christmas Day.”

 Stiles wriggles with a content hum, mouthing along Derek’s collar.

 “Guess what else?”

 “Hmm?”

 “It’s our first Christmas Day as husbands.”

 Stiles giggles, shifting on top of him and biting on his earlobe. “Should we celebrate?”

 “Absolutely.” Derek rumbles, scraping his fingers over Stiles’ ribs. Stiles shivers, a small noise slipping from between his lips. Derek nods, raising up to press their mouths together. “What do you want, Stiles? What do you need me to do?”

 “Finger me, please.” Stiles asks sweetly, sinking his teeth into his lower lip.

 Derek nods. “Yeah, yeah. Roll over.”

 Stiles nods and flips onto stomach, letting Derek work off his pajama bottoms. “Come on, Der,” he breathes, careful not to disturb the quiet around them. “Come on.”

 Derek bites a few sloppy kisses into the flesh of Stiles ass as he exposes it. Stiles wriggles a little, spreading his legs so Derek can lay between them and go to town as much as he wants. And Derek does, working his tongue between his cheeks and to that soft little pucker that tightens when Derek scrapes his stubble over it. Stiles moans, spreading further and shivering.

 Derek licks over it, making it nice and wet before dusting a cool stream of air across it. The noise Stiles makes it worth the disgruntled glare he gets, especially because Derek only meets it with a raised eyebrow and the tip of his tongue.

 He’s hot, tastes a little sour from sweat, but Derek can taste Stiles beneath it. The cherry-and-coffee flavor that made him so goddamn wild in the first place. Stiles whimpers and writhes, but Derek holds him open and works his tongue inside him until Stiles is practically vibrating.

 When he decides he’s had enough, he sits back and grapples with his bedside drawer, swearing twice and making Stiles giggle breathlessly. Derek glares at him as he uncaps the lube he’s won. “I need to fucking fix that thing.”

 “You say that every time you have to open it.” Stiles notes, grinning lazily at him as he hugs a pillow to his chest.

 “And every time I mean it.” Derek grumbles, warming the lube and sliding back down Stiles’ body.

 “Then why haven’t you done it yet?”

 “Because I always forget.”

 “How could you for— _aaaaaooooh_ …” Stiles buries his face into the pillow, working his hips back onto the two fingers Derek has pressed into him.

 “That’s how.” Derek murmurs, watching Stiles fuck himself back onto the first two knuckles before pulling away again and clicking his tongue. “Have to work harder than that if you want more.”

 “Asshole.” Stiles whimpers.

 Derek grins and presses his fingers fully inside. Stiles voice cracks with the octave it reaches. “God, love the sounds you make when I finger you open like this.” he breathes, mostly to himself. “You’d think I didn’t fuck you enough.”

 Stiles wriggles on his fingers, trying to find the right angle or more pressure or something. Derek punishes him by spreading them. Stiles collapses into a puddle, panting little half breaths and hisses. “Keep still, Stiles.” he warns.

 “Not fast enough.” Stiles mumbles sadly into his pillow.

 “I know, baby, but I want to take it slow.” Derek tells him, watching as he leisurely works his fingers in and out of Stiles’ increasingly red hole. “Want to drag it out just a little.”

 “Not fair.” Stiles drools out, head turned to just catch Derek’s eyes.

 Derek only grins in response, pulling his fingers out to lube up a third finger before squeezing back in. Stiles eyes shut tight and his mouth falls open, but he doesn’t make a sound until Derek is settled all the way inside him. Then he moans, just a little quiet sound escaping. “There we go.” Derek purrs, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Good boy, so good.”

 Stiles twists a little to steal a brief kiss. “Move, please, c’mon…” he pants.

 “Relax for me.” Derek answers, and when Stiles does he slowly turns his fingers. Stiles groans, but he stays relaxed, so Derek twists them back the other way and slips them back. “God, Stiles, I wish you could see this.” he breathes. “You’re just so fucking perfect.”

 Stiles makes a tiny noise, hips hitching just a little. Derek starts slowly fucking his fingers in and out of Stiles’ hole, listening to the heavy, uneven thump of his heart and the forced breaths. Derek nods, mouthing across the moles on Stiles’ ass. “Tell me, Stiles. Tell me what you need.”

 Stiles makes a few unintelligible noises before reaching back to motion him away. Derek sits back and watches him flip over with a tiny grin. Stiles grabs onto the back of his neck and pulls down, kissing him with a lazy energy that burns instead of shocks. “Like this.” Stiles mutters against his mouth. Derek doesn’t  stop kissing him to reach between them and find Stiles’ rim again. Stiles gasps when he slips his fingers again, but he doesn’t move away. He simply nods and kisses him. “Yeah, come on. More.”

 Derek pushes them into Stiles rhythmically, watching Stiles’ eyes go unfocused, his mouth go slack. Derek stretches his fingers as far as he can to try and press against his prostate, because if there’s anything better than having Stiles’ naked, it’s having Stiles naked and begging to come.

 Stiles also tries to press down, desperate for the contact, and when he gets it he tightens up in a vice. “ _Oh_ , oh, god…” he gasps, grabbing for Derek’s hair.

 “Right here?” Derek drags his fingers up deliberately, grinning when Stiles’ eyes roll back into his head. “Just like that?”

 Stiles makes a strangled noise, the tendons in his neck popping out with the way he stretches back. Derek leans down to kiss his throat, rumbles because no matter how many times his mate bares his neck for him, he’ll never get tired of it. Stiles is shaking at this point, just seconds away from falling apart, but Derek is a master by now. He knows how much Stiles can take, how far he has to go in order to make him come. He could do this for hours, push and push and push until Stiles is numb with the pleasure.

 He’s not going to do that now, though. Instead, he pulls away, giving Stiles a minute to breathe. When Stiles opens his eyes again, they’re glossy and exhausted but also frustrated. “Where are you going? Get back in there and finish what you started.” he pants out.

 Derek chuckles, pulling Stiles’ legs around his waist. “I’m getting there. I didn’t want to break you on Christmas.”

 Stiles hums noncommittally to show he’s heard the sound of Derek talking but doesn’t particularly care what he’s been saying. Derek leans down and kisses him affectionately, selfishly getting him off guard so that when he slips inside Stiles goes tight again, a tiny betrayed sound coming from his throat. Derek kisses him. “Sorry.”

 “Are not.” Stiles gasps as he grinds his hips down.

 “No,” Derek agrees, grinning. “I’m really not.”

 “More, come on, _Derek_.”

 Derek gives a forceful thrust, and Stiles reacts by moaning very loudly, pulling Derek’s hair, and dragging claw marks into Derek’s shoulder. Derek laughs breathlessly. “There?”

 “There, fucking there.” Stiles croaks, twisting his legs around Derek. “Please, please, Der, please…”

 “You know I can’t say no when you ask so nicely.” Derek murmurs, starting a rhythm of slow drags back and firm thrusts in. Stiles breaks into pitiful sobs, his voice hoarse and small and his dick almost purple with how hard it is. Derek’s nothing if not in tune with Stiles, though, and when he’s right at the point of this going from perfect to drawn out, he drives in with such a force that the bed knocks against the wall.

 Stiles screams—or, he tries to, but his voice is gone, wrecked from how dry and used his throat is, so instead it comes out as more of a pathetic, husky sob. Derek watches him come through the blur of his own orgasm, which is fueled by the way Stiles’ muscles keep contracting around him. When the world fits itself back into his brain, he collapses like bricks on top of his husband. Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, though, because except for a small huff at the added weight he says absolutely nothing.

 Unsurprisingly, they slip back into sleep.

***

 The next time Derek wakes up, it’s to children screaming. He bolts up, but the room is still a little sideways and unfocused. It registers after the second round of screaming that it’s in the backyard and it’s almost guaranteed to be Vivian, Scott and Allison’s little girl. He sighs and collapses back into his pillows.

 Then it hits him that if Vivian’s here, the others have to be, too. He looks around, but Stiles is nowhere to be seen. He isn’t all that surprised, but he _is_ surprised that Stiles hadn’t woken him up. He’s even more surprised that he hadn’t woken up to the loss of Stiles in the first place. He almost always does.

 Instead of over thinking it, he passes it off as a post-amazing-sex-coma and climbs out of bed to take a shower. On the mirror is a post-it in Stiles’ handwriting. _You owe me some pain-draining, big guy. Remember, wear PJs. Xmas means NO JEANS._

 Derek snorts and preens all at once. The idea of Stiles limping around downstairs without him there to take the soreness away—because there is no way anyone else would do it—is kind of pleasing. It also gives his dick a moment of hope before it realizes that there is _no way_.

 He showers and gets dressed—in pajamas—before going downstairs. The screaming is louder and followed up by giggles from several different children, all of whom race past him on his way into the kitchen. Stiles is leaning—not sitting, he notices—on a counter with a cup of something warm and talking to Scott. Derek can hear Isaac rolling around in the other room with the kids, and Lydia, Erica, and Allison are talking about something nearby. He can’t hear Boyd’s voice, but he can feel the pull of him in the house, so he knows he’s here.

 Scott picks up on him first, turning with a grin. “Hey, Derek. Merry Christmas!”

 “Merry Christmas.” Derek replies, making his way over to Stiles to kiss him. “You could’ve woken me up.”

 “I couldn’t get up the stairs.” Stiles quips, trying very hard to look above it all.

 Scott shamelessly cackles. When Stiles glares at him, he backs away. “I get it. I’ll be in the living room with everyone else.”

 After Scott flees, Derek lets the playful mood take him over and presses his hand very firmly against Stiles’ butt. Stiles half-whimpers-half-groans and shoves his hand away. “No! Stop. There are children present.”

 “Not in the room.”

 “ _Werewolf_ children.” Stiles hisses.

 “Only Vivian. Chase, Kylie, and Payton are all human.”

 “Be appropriate, Derek Hale.” Stiles warns him gravely. “This is Christmas, and I will not let you trifle with me on Christmas.”

 “Yes, dear.” Derek murmurs, kissing his forehead. “No trifling until the kids are gone.”

 Stiles snorts, breaking character to give him an exasperated smile.

 “Daaa-aad.” Chase whines, attracting both their attention. “Uncle Derek and Uncle Stiles are being gross again.”

 “Gross how?” Isaac wonders, wandering in with Payton on his hip. The little girl has a fist full of red curls in her hand and her thumb in her mouth, eyes wide like Isaac’s but hazel like Lydia’s.

 “They’re making that face.” Chase complains, nose scrunched up. Derek is still amazed how much like Isaac he looks, down to the look of disgust Derek became very familiar with when they were living together.

 “Oh, this face?” Isaac starts making kissy noises at him, leaning down like he’s going to kiss him. Chase groans, trying to push away, but Isaac being both older and a werewolf prevents him from being able to stop the attack. Derek snorts at the scene and vaguely notes Stiles settling against his side with a happy sigh.

 “I’ll thave you!” Vivian crows around her fangs, appearing to leap on top of Isaac and tug at his hair. She growls, her gold eyes flashing playfully.

 Isaac lets out a dramatic groan, falling onto his knees to set Payton aside before collapsing onto the floor. Vivian howls in triumph, and Chase joins in with a human mimicry. Payton steps forward and nudges Isaac’s cheek with her tiny foot. Isaac opens up one eye to wink at her, which sends her into a fit of giggles.

 “Vivie, did you kill Uncle Isaac again?” Scott scolds, coming into the kitchen.

 “He wath attacking Chathe!” Vivian defends, sticking her nose up in the air.

 “Well, I suppose it’s okay then.” Scott allows, picking her up. “Maybe we should let him come back alive for lunch, though? Ham _is_ his favorite.”

 Vivian considers this, her features slowly morphing back into human as she does. Finally she shrugs. “Okay. But only because it’s Christmas.”

 “That’s my girl.” Allison chuckles, ducking in to kiss her cheek. She notices Derek and smiles. “Morning, Derek. Sleep well?”

 “Yeah.” Derek agrees, pinching Stiles’ hip discretely. Stiles jumps a little and then elbows him in the ribs.

 Allison winks at him, turning to take Vivian from Scott. Erica comes in next, with Boyd and Kylie trailing behind her. “Well, well, about time! You missed presents.”

 Every kid but Kylie turns to stare at her, horrified. “We missed presents?” Chase gasps, sounding on the verge of tears.

 “No, no.” Isaac sits up suddenly from playing dead. “No, your Aunt Erica is just teasing Uncle Derek.”

 “Teasing is mean.” Payton mumbles, lip quivering.

 “Yes, it is.” Isaac agrees, scooping both distraught children into his lap and glaring at Erica. Erica looks torn between shame and hysterical laughter.

 “Scott, Vivie’s got claws.” Allison says calmly, if a little through her teeth.

 Scott swoops in and takes her, glowering at Erica as well. This time she leans to the side of shame. “How about I take everyone to go call Santa?” she suggests. “You can remind him how good you’ve all been.”

 Everyone lights up and scrambles to follow Erica out of the room. Boyd waits until they’re all gone to heave a heavy sigh and step outside, presumably to answer the phone when Erica calls.

 “Good luck, Santa.” Stiles says.

 Boyd glares at him. “I get the first slice of pie.” he retorts before shutting the door.

 Kylie climbs onto a stool across the breakfast bar and sighs. “I don’t know if I wish I still believed in Santa or not.”

 “Santa is real.” Stiles insists. “Santa is the very spirit of Christmas. I still get presents from Santa.”

 “But you know their just presents from someone else.” Kylie argues.

 “It’s a different sort of Santa.” Scott explains, sitting on the stool next to her. “See, when you grow up and get presents from Santa, you know that it’s a present that someone got you that you didn’t expect to be given.”

 Isaac nods, coming around the counter to pour a cup of coffee. “It’s true. Santa gifts are always the best ones. The ones that really remind you about the materialism of Christmas.”

 “And the meaning behind it.” Allison adds, glaring at Isaac.

 “Santa is magic.” Stiles rounds up. “And Santa doesn’t end just because you know the signature is your parents’.”

 “What about you, Uncle Derek?” Kylie wonders. “Do you still believe in Santa?”

 “Sure.” Derek nods. “I mean, who else is going to buy me collector books?”

 “Uncle Stiles?” she says, looking unconvinced.

 “You’re not getting the point.” Stiles sighs. “Yes, I buy them and wrap them, but I sign them from Santa because they’re more special than just something I would buy.”

 “So you’re saying the _really_ special gifts come from Santa?”

 “You’re conditioned to get most excited about Santa’s presents from birth.” Isaac says, sipping his coffee. “So when you’re grown up, you wrap the most exciting presents as presents from Santa. It’s psychological.”

 “You know what I think?” Lydia says, waltzing into the kitchen to pass her empty to cup to Isaac. “I think you should feel whatever you want to feel about Santa. You know it isn’t real now, so you can decide if you want Santa gifts or not.”

 Kylie looks bitterly torn. Derek leans forward to catch her attention. “It’s okay to want Santa gifts. That’s what we’re saying. We all love getting Santa gifts. That doesn’t have to change just because you know they aren’t from an overweight immortal guy with a white beard.”

 She smiles, small and private. Derek smiles back. He perks up as the front door opens and Mr. Stilinski hollers out “Hello, family! Special delivery from Santa for some extra good kids?”

 Boyd comes back in then, looking pleased with himself as the kids all squeal with joy.

 “You recruited my dad?”

 “He’s late.” Boyd explains. “Last one here brings the bribery gifts.”

 Melissa comes in with Payton in her arms and Chase and Vivian on her heels. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

 “Grandpa’s putting presents under the tree!” Vivian exclaims. “Santa brought us extra presents!”

 “Wow! You guys must’ve been _really_ good.” Stiles gapes.

 “Uncle Derek, did you ask Santa for anything?” Chase wonders as he runs to wrap himself around Lydia’s leg.

 “Of course I did.” Derek says.

 “Were you good, though?” Vivian asks, looking skeptical.

 “Well, why don’t you guys go look and see if Santa brought me something?” Derek suggests.

 Chase and Vivian take the job, racing out of the kitchen to go check.

 “They always have so much energy this time of year.” Melissa sighs, smiling as she sets Payton on the counter. “I think it’s all the cookies.”

 “I think it’s the lights.” Stiles says.

 “That was always your favorite part.” John agrees, walking in. “Hello, everyone. Merry Christmas.” Everyone chimes ‘merry Christmas’ back as John ruffles Payton’s hair. “Vivian and Chase are shaking the boxes.”

 “That’s your fault.” Lydia says, looking at Isaac. Isaac just shrugs.

 “We all knew they would.” Scott tells him. “We wrapped them extra carefully.”

 “Mama, I got extra presents.” Payton says, twisting her neck to look at Lydia with a smile. “Santa gave Grampa extra presents for me.”

 “Well, you were an extra good girl this year.” Lydia reasons, walking forward to pull her onto her side of the island. “Did you show Grandpa how high you can count?”

 Payton shakes her head and launches into her numbers, using her fingers to count up to thirty.

 Derek doesn’t realize he’s smiling at her until he stops smiling, and he only stops because he notices Stiles leaving the room. He catches Scott’s look of confusion and shrugs before following him.

 Stiles is in the laundry room just off the kitchen. They can still hear Payton counting even if they close the door, but Stiles seems not to notice, instead staring blankly out the window. “Hey.” Derek murmurs. “Are you okay? You just walked out.”

 “I want kids.” Stiles mumbles. “I’ve always wanted kids, but we can’t have kids that are…that are _ours_.”

 Derek feels the shadow cross over him, too. It’s not the first time they’ve talked about this, and every time they do the same sort of darkness comes up. “I’m sorry.”

 “No. No, don’t—don’t do that. It’s not one’s fault. It’s just biology. And when we decide to have kids, we’ll adopt. There are so many good kids out there for us. It’s just sad, sometimes.”

 “Yeah.” Derek agrees. “I know.”

 Stiles looks at him and sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s Christmas.”

 “Does it bother you that they call your dad grandpa?”

 “Oh, hell no.” Stiles shakes his head firmly. “No, of course not. He is Vivian’s grandpa, and Isaac and Boyd don’t have parents, but they’re like your brothers, so of course my dad sees them as surrogate sons. And he loves it, you know? They’re not mine, but their his grandkids all the same.”

 “I’m not asking if it makes sense, Stiles, and I’m not asking if it bothers your dad. I’m asking if it upsets _you_.”

 Stiles pauses for a minute, but shakes his head again. “No. It doesn’t bother me. It just makes me think about the whole kids thing.”

 Derek nods. “I get it.”

 “I’m not ready for kids yet.” Stiles tells him slowly. “I mean, we’ve only been married a year. I want to get through two before we bring kids into it, because the first two years are supposed to be the hardest.”

 “We’ve been living together for almost five years. We’ve been together for seven.”

 “It’s different.” Stiles argues. “I mean, there’s legal things, too. Gay couples have such a hard time adopting, so to have two years of good, clean marriage under our names might help.”

 Derek grabs onto Stiles waist, tugging him forward. “We won’t worry about it today, alright? It’s Christmas. Let’s enjoy the family we have before thinking about adding to it.”

 Stiles sighs, leaning into him heavily. “Yeah. Good idea.”

***

 It’s become sort of a tradition to do a wolf run on Christmas. When Kylie was born, Erica had recruited Stiles into helping her modify a baby harness to not just hold Kylie, but to keep her from bouncing too much while they ran because “She’s a baby of two bitten wolves. She’s going to have to run with us eventually, and I’ll be damned if she misses the Christmas run.”

 So it’s a thing. Chase and Payton get bundled very thoroughly, while Kylie bundles herself. Vivian gets wrapped in her regular winter gear, sans gloves. By the time their ready to go, every kid—Kylie included—is bouncing with excitement. Derek snags a kiss from Stiles on the porch, and then Scott howls and they’re off.

 The run is something Derek started when he was alpha because it was something his family had always done. Even after the fire, Laura had driven them to the Appalachians and they’d run all Christmas day. Scott had readily agreed to continue it, looking sad that Derek had ever thought he’d stop it.

 They’re all in their beta shifts. Isaac has Peyton on his back, harnessed in, while Derek and Boyd have Chase and Kylie piggybacking them, respectively. Vivian is running with Scott, howling occasionally. The kids all throw their heads back to mimic it, and sometimes Erica will join in, too. The moon isn’t full this Christmas, but it’s bright and clear, so they have no trouble making their way through the preserve and up to Beacon Point.

 Scott grabs Vivian when they get close, which she isn’t ecstatic about, but lets him do. They all stop on top and let the kids off to look down at the city, which is glowing in the frosty night. Chase and Vivian try to find their houses while Kylie sits quietly with Payton in her lap dozing.

 Erica, of course, is the first to bring up the laundry room thing. “So…Stiles is freaking out about kids?”

 “Stiles is always freaking out about kids.” Derek sighs.

 “I wish we could do something.” Scott tells him sadly. “But he’s right. It’s just biology.”

 “No freaky werewolf magic can change that.” Isaac agrees.

 “We’ll figure it out.” Derek insists.

 “We know you will.” Boyd agrees. “That’s not the problem here. The problem is we’re all sad because you’re sad, because Stiles is sad.”

 “Uncle Stiles is sad?” Vivian pipes up, looking heartbroken. “Why is Uncle Stiles sad?”

 “He just wants amazing kids like you guys.” Erica says, walking over to join them. “And he and Uncle Derek haven’t had any yet.”

 “Why not?” Chase questions.

 “We can be your kids, Uncle Derek!” Payton decides before anyone can answer. “Then I’ll have _three_ Daddy’s _and_ a Mama.”

 “We can’t do that.” Kylie corrects softly. “They’re our uncles. They can’t be our dads, too.”

 “Oh.” Payton’s face falls.

 “Your Uncle Stiles and I love you all.” Derek tells them firmly, sitting next to Kylie so Payton can crawl into his lap. “And even though Uncle Stiles is a little sad about not having a baby, he would never want you guys to be sad, too. And neither do I.”

 “So you’ll never have a baby?” Vivian whimpers.

 “We will, when we’re ready.”

 That seems to cheer everyone up. They spend a few more minutes at the Point before hauling the kids back home. They’re all much more subdued than the trip up, tired from all the excitement. Scott ends up carrying Vivian most of the way back. When they cross back into the backyard, though, their energy cranks back up. Vivian and Chase nearly break limbs trying to climb down too fast, and Payton is squirming unhappily in her harness. Derek helps unlatch her and sets her on the ground to take off after her brother and cousin. Kylie doesn’t run, but she’s definitely excited when they walk into the house.

 “The great heroes return!” Stiles crows, already toting Payton around and wearing a Santa hat. Derek grins and kisses him. Payton even leans in to smack a kiss on his cheek. Stiles swings her around until she’s giggling and then sets her back on the floor so she can run into the living room. Then he sends Derek a wicked grin and tugs him in for a more thorough welcome-back kiss. “Hi there, big guy.” he murmurs. “You have fun?”

 “Next time we decide to have an important conversation with our family around, let’s do it in one of the soundproofed rooms.”

 Stiles winces. “Was it bad?”

 “Scott is probably going to cuddle you all night. But he’ll have to fight off the kids.”

 “The kids know?” Stiles looks horrified. “No! Vivie’s ears aren’t that good yet!”

 “Erica brought it up around them. We took care of it.”

 Stiles doesn’t look very convinced, but he lets it pass. “Okay. Let’s go open presents.”

 The kids are already passing out presents to each other, stacking up piles next to the person their meant for. Isaac is helping them, which has Lydia smiling adoringly at them from the single chair. Allison is on the larger couch next to John and Melissa, with Scott sitting at her feet. Derek snags Stiles’ wrist and pulls him onto his lap as they sit next to Erica and Boyd on the smaller couch.

 Once the kids notice everyone’s here, they start whining to open their gifts. Each kid waits for permission from their parents before ripping into all of them. John is snapping pictures on the smartphone Stiles bought him last Christmas, looking over-the-moon about all of it.

 By the time the kids finish opening, they’re surrounded by piles of ripped up paper, sticky ribbons, and toys that they won’t even want in a month. Payton goes down first, wrapped in a new sweater and hat, and holding tightly to a Minion stuffed animal.

 Chase and Vivian aren’t far behind, both bleary eyed as they try to hold all their new things in their laps at once. Kylie seems content to sit at her parents’ feet, Boyd’s fingers carding through her hair as she reads on the new Kindle they bought for her.

 “So, what do you guys think?” Scott asks, grinning. “Pretty good Christmas?”

 “Yeah.” Vivian nods, a flash of energy going through her before she slumps again. “Did you see that Santa got me a bow like Mommy’s?”

 “I sure did.” Scott confirms.

 “And I got a badge.” Chase puts in, tapping the glinting metal clipped onto his shirt. “Just like Grandpa’s.”

 “Santa must’ve gotten your letter.” John says sagely.

 Derek doesn’t want to guess how much that cost to have done, but he figures the satisfied look on Chase’s face is good enough compensation. After a few more minutes, Scott and Isaac cart their kids upstairs into the spare room Derek has for them so they can sleep until everyone’s ready to leave. Kylie kisses her parents goodnight and thanks everyone for the gifts before walking up to her room, too.

 “Is it our turn?” Stiles asks hopefully.

 John snorts. “Should’ve let him open the presents with the kids.”

 Stiles glares, but he jumps up and starts picking up paper. The girls start piling toys into bags so they’ll be easier to take to the car later before setting them aside. By the time the place is clean again, Scott and Isaac are back and Stiles is literally jumping up and down.

 They start with John and go counter clockwise around the room, ending with Stiles at the tree. Everyone ends up with one gift from each couple, one from their spouse, and at least thirty different crafts from the kids. Stiles is delighted with all his gifts, and wears all the ones that can be worn the moment he opens them. By the end of the night, Stiles has on a knitted earflap hat, a graphic t-shirt with a bowtie printed on it, an open button-up, and a scarf. However, he looks absolutely overjoyed, even if he’s red from the heat. He’s also surrounded by dozens of drawings with glitter on them and one clay rattle that Kylie had made in school for everyone. His is shaped like Thor’s hammer, and no matter how many times people glare at him, he seems content to continue rattling it like a little kid.

 The one present that hasn’t been opened yet is Derek’s, and he doesn’t seem to notice. Derek doesn’t really blame him. He’s made sure it was fairly well hidden when he’s stuck it under there, because he couldn’t have stood the thought of Stiles needling him about what it was. John looks at Derek expectantly, and Derek clears his throat. “Stiles, there’s one more present.”

 “What? Oh.” Stiles turns and blinks at the gift, setting down his hammer to open it up. He freezes the moment he sees it, and the room feels so much more silent without him moving around.

 “Dude, your heart is going nuts.” Scott says. “It’s not dirty, is it?”

 “I hope it is.” Erica says gleefully.

“Derek.” Stiles breathes. “ _Derek_.”

 “It’s dirty.” Erica decides.

 “I knew how important this Christmas was to you, and how important it was to your mom. I had some help,” he nods to John. “But I thought this would make this Christmas perfect.”

 “What is it?” Isaac wonders.

 Stiles lifts it carefully, hands shaking as he shows off the tiny glass figurine. Derek had come across its pieces when getting decorations from John’s house, and John had looked heartbroken as he told him how it was supposed to be the ballerina from The Tin Soldier, and had been Claudia’s favorite ornament. Derek didn’t think it would survive again as an ornament, but he’d taken the pieces—with permission—to a fairy who had mended and strengthened it for him. He’d then had it mounted on a tiny silver pedestal. No longer an ornament, but obviously the same piece.

 “That was your mom’s.” Scott realizes, eyes wide. “I remember that. You always put it on the tree last, but it broke when we were, like, twelve.”

 “The last Christmas we had at our house.” Stiles confirms, voice as tremulous as his fingers.

 Scott squints at it, scooting forward. “Wow, you can’t even tell it broke.”

 “Derek.” Stiles whimpers, looking at him finally. He’s about a second from crying.

 Derek motions him over, and with shaky limbs and a loud wail, Stiles climbs into his lap. Derek kisses the top of his head and laughs. “I hope this is happy crying.”

 “I don’t want to know how,” Stiles sobs, ignoring him. “Just…thank you. Thank you so much.”

 John gives him a thumbs up. Derek can only smile into Stiles’ hair.

***

 Stiles puts the ballerina on their dresser, so when the sun hits it, tiny rainbows dance around the room. At first Derek had thought maybe the fairy had down something to it so it would do that, but when he tells Stiles this, Stiles spends the rest of the morning talking about the Rayleigh Effect and lamenting Derek’s poor knowledge of simple science.

 Derek doesn’t care much about why it does that. What he cares about is how happy Stiles looks every time it does.

**Author's Note:**

> You could follow my [tumblr](http://www.thepainlessmoustache.tumblr.com/) as a Christmas present


End file.
